Okay, first of all, I cannot claim the genius idea behind this. Or FMA in general.

But I can claim having the honor of being friends with the birthday girl who had the dream that this is based off of! Happy Birthday, Lilac! Happy Fabulous Fourteenth!

If there was one thing that irritated Colonel Roy Mustang more than Lieutenant Colonel Hughes telling him to find himself a wife, it was one thing.

Paperwork.

Mustang failed to see the point of it, or the purpose of reading through it all and signing his name. It was mindnumbing, it killed trees, and it was oh so flammable. He couldn't count how many times he'd come close to pulling on his gloves and snapping his fingers at it. Several times he found himself reaching for the white clothing articles, already imagining the beautiful, red-hot blazes the irritating sheafs of paper would become, before First Lieutenant Hawkeye turned around and he practically flung them across the room in fear. Rule number one in this office was that you didn't make Hawkeye angry. You just didn't. Unless you were stupid and/or had a deathwish.

But today of all days, Hawkeye was out of the office, as it was her day off. However, the Flame Alchemist's gloves had been left in the pocket of his spare uniform and had been sent to the drycleaners. So while he didn't have the lieutenant to keep him on task, he couldn't send his work up in flames like he'd wanted to, leaving him a very bored colonel.

In a last ditch act of procrastination, Mustang flipped on the radio in his inner office. Coincidentally, a popular pop song was beginning to play(1). The colonel paused, not having heard this particular one before. He found it quite catchy and after a few moments began tapping the desk with his fountain pen, in time to the beat. By the second chorus, he found himself humming. And by the bridge of the song, he was singing along.

Unfortunately for Mustang, he began belting out the lyrics at the aproximate moment that the Fullmetal Alchemist walked through the door of the outer office.

Edward Elric was not having a good day. The lead he and Alphonse had been following had been a total dud, as was pretty much expected these days. Sometimes it seemed like they'd never find the Philosopher's Stone. And the fact that Al had just happened to come across several kittens on the way here did not improve his mood at all.

For now, however, he just wanted to find the colonel, hand in his meager report on what he hadn't found, and get back to the library to look for another clue.

The young alchemist didn't expect to see Mustang's subordinates huddled around the door to the inner office and snickering. And was that off-key singing coming from behind the door?

"What's going on?" he inquired, crossing the room at the speed of a curious teenager.

Second Lieutenant Havoc shushed him. "Quiet! He'll hear you!" Ed whispered.

"Who'll hear me? Why does it sound like something's dying in there? And what is Fuery recording?"

Sergeant Major Kain Fuery paused in fiddling with small device that looked as though it specialized in recording sounds. "It's the Colonel; he's singing."

"He's what?"

"Shhh! Just listen, shorty," said Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda. Edward, now curious more than ever, didn't even react to the word "shorty" (though later he'd remember and be held back from pummeling the red-haired lieutenant) and quickly approached the door. He muttered at Falman to move over so he could press his ear against the wood.

Inside, muffled as it was by the door, came an unfamiliar melody. Or, the words were familiar, it was just the voice belting them out that caught him by surprise.

"Cause baby you're a firework
Come on show 'em what your worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y..."

Soon Ed found himself sniggering and covering his mouth with his left hand. This was just too good to interrupt.

Despite Havoc and Breda's protests, the Fullmetal Alchemist silently turned the doorknob, cracked the door open. He nearly lost it with laughter at what he saw inside.

The Flame Alchemist was so into the music that he didn't hear the door open. Instead, he was standing on his desk, stepping all over the forgotten paperwork. His eyes were closed as lyrics dropped from his lips like bricks. He was even snapping his glove-less fingers in the air as he swayed to the beat.

"Boom, boom boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon!"

That did it. Every single one of Mustang's subordinates keeled over, unable to hold in their laughter, chuckles, giggles, or guffaws in any longer.

"Ahahahahaha!"

"Oh God, Bwahahaha!"

Mustang froze for a good ten seconds, the loud laughter having returned his attention to the world. He saw his subordinates rolling around on the floor, and realized what they had heard.

He didn't say a single word; he just stomped over to the door, kicked Fullmetal out of the way none-too-gently, and slammed it, before practically ripping the radio's cord from the wall and dumping himself in his swivel chair, and attacking his paperwork with a beet-red face.

But even the colonel couldn't ignore the eardrum-burstingly loud laughter coming from right outside his door.

Mustang really needed to get his office soundproofed, or at least attempt to not procrastinate so much.

(1) I know they didn't have pop music then. Bear with me people.

Can you even imagine Travis Willingham's voice singing that? Someone should ask him to sing it, record it on video, put it on youtube, and send me the link. Seriously, that would make my year.

Hope you liked it, Lilac! And if anybody else enjoyed it, there's a review button right down there... You could tell me what you thought of it.